


Immortal Bonds

by Cinaed



Series: The Best of Carolina The Teenage Witch [41]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - Sabrina the Teenage Witch Fusion, Awkward Conversations, Developing Relationship, Father-Son Relationship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-18 23:55:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29741850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cinaed/pseuds/Cinaed
Summary: Church suggests some father-son bonding ideas. Out of the goodness of his heart, of course.
Relationships: The Director | Dr. Leonard Church & AI Program Epsilon | Leonard Church
Series: The Best of Carolina The Teenage Witch [41]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1183436
Comments: 16
Kudos: 39





	Immortal Bonds

**Author's Note:**

> And we're back! Thank you for your patience with the hiatus. 2020 was rough, but 2021 is looking better. I'm so happy to be back to writing these characters, I've missed both AUs so much! Hopefully I'll be able to get back to a regular schedule now. Can't wait to show you all the fun the rest of season 4 has in store!
> 
> Thanks goes out to Aryashi as always for being an amazing beta, and to chat for their pun-tastic suggestions. :D
> 
> The fine sugar pastries mentioned can be found [here](http://www.medievalcuisine.com/site/medievalcuisine/Euriol/recipe-index/de-panades-de-sucre-fi).

Caboose is staring at Church.

Church tries to ignore him, but Caboose just keeps staring, his chin resting on the back of the bus seat, his gaze wide-eyed and unblinking. Seriously, it’s weird. And probably not going to stop any time soon, because anything that distracts Caboose from Sheila sitting next to him is a big deal.

He sighs. “Spit it out, Caboose.”

Caboose blinks. “Um. Your dad is visiting.”

“Yep,” Church says. He looks towards the front of the bus. Leonard and Simmons are still pretending not to know each other in front of the mortals. He almost grins, remembering Simmons’ surprised squeak when Church turned in the parental volunteer form for the robotics competition trip.

“That is nice,” Sheila says, smiling.

“Yeah,” Caboose agrees, but there’s a weird note in his voice, like doubt.

Church squints at him. “What?”

“Nothing.” Caboose drops back into his own seat.

Church is about to call him out for being weird, but gets distracted by Simmons calling from the front, “Okay, I need everyone to pull out the folder I gave them when they got on the bus. It has the itinerary for the trip and everyone’s hotel room assignments.”

“Room assignments?” someone gripes.

“We let you guys choose your roommates for the last trip,” Simmons says dryly. “Remember what happened?”

Church snickers at the memory.

His amusement vanishes when he glances at the room assignment list. “ _Seriously_?”

“Oh, that is considerate of Mr. Simmons,” Sheila says. “Now you can spend more time with your dad! Caboose said that he does not get to visit that often.”

“Uh huh,” Church mumbles. So much for his plan to raid the hotel room’s fridge. He stares up towards the front of the bus, but he can’t get a read on Leonard’s expression. Did Simmons surprise him with this too?

It’s not the worst thing in the world. Carolina was as excited as Church was surprised when Leonard volunteered for the trip. She’ll be even happier if they do some father-son bonding stuff. Leonard’s a nerd. Maybe they can talk about the robotics competition or something. Or Church can mess with him a little more about college.

Caboose sighs. “I’ll miss you,” he says mournfully, like Church is going to be on the moon instead of probably a few rooms away.

“I’ll come and raid your fridge later,” Church says.

He’s mostly joking, but Caboose brightens. “Okay!”

“Oh, good,” Sheila says, sounding pleased. “I am sharing a room with Connie.”

Church glances down at the list. Sure enough, Connie’s name is side by side with Sheila’s. “Yeah. Why is she here again? She’s not part of the robotics club.”

He forgot that Connie’s sitting across the aisle from him. She leans over and gives him an unamused smile. “Because the newspaper wants a story and Mr. Simmons said it was okay.”

Church snorts. “Yeah. That’s going to be a thrilling story. Local nerds win robotics competition.”

Connie looks amused. “Glad you can admit you’re a nerd.”

“What? No. I was talking about everyone else.”

“Uh huh.”

“I am certain it will be an excellent article,” Sheila says before Church can defend himself. She smiles, wide and earnest, and adds, “I enjoyed your last one about the recycling program at the school, Connie. It was so unfortunate that the school was trying to cut costs by claiming to recycle and instead throwing trash and recycling together!”

Connie blinks. “You read that?”

Sheila blinks back. Her smile turns slightly puzzled as Connie stares at her like she’s waiting for a punchline. “Of course! Reading the Westbridge Lantern is an excellent way to learn what is going on in the school.”

“...You’re my new best friend,” Connie announces.

Church slouches in his seat, glancing down the aisle towards Leonard again.

Simmons and Leonard are still pretending not to know each other.

Simmons has some nerdy book out, but he keeps opening and closing it and not actually reading it. Finally he clears his throat and says, awkwardly drawing out the first word, “So, how are things?” He grimaces as soon as the words leave his mouth, regret so obvious on his face it’s like Carolina is here to do a spell, only this time it’s writing EMBARRASSED instead of MORTAL over his head.

Leonard doesn’t immediately answer. He’s fiddling with his glasses, though, a little less obviously than Simmons has been fiddling with his book. “Fine,” he says in a clipped voice. Then he opens his mouth, as though to ask a question of his own. His eyes flicker around the bus, and the question goes unsaid as he remembers he’s surrounded by mortals.

Church squints, watching them. Then the penny drops. A snort escapes him, but he pretends not to notice Caboose’s curious look.

Is this the first time Leonard and Simmons have been face to face since Leonard punched him? If it’s not the first, then it’s still only the second or third time. Church had heard all about it from the Spellmans, who apparently can’t resist gossip.

Church is still sorry he’d been too busy almost dying to watch it. His imagination’s good, but if he’d actually seen it himself, he could’ve framed that memory and put it on his wall. Well, maybe not his wall. Tucker and Caboose would have questions. But still.

He settles comfortably against the seat, grinning to himself as Simmons coughs and says, “Uh, I’m just gonna, uh, read my book.”

Even if he’s sharing a room with Leonard, this is still going to be a fun trip.

* * *

“Can’t believe you didn’t go with Church and Connie,” Niner says, leaning against the locker next to Carolina’s. She’s looking pleased with herself, probably because she found a new pair of combat boots at a thrift shop with spikes on the soles and it’s been making Mr. Kraft fume all day that they’re not against the dress code.

Carolina senses a revision of the dress code by Monday morning, but she’s not going to ruin Niner’s good mood by mentioning it.

“Right?” Wash agrees. “Perfect excuse to ditch school _and_ a trip to Boston, all for the low price of being stuck on a bus with the robotics club for a couple hours.”

“I had other plans,” Carolina says, amused.

“Well, you’re not hanging out with me or Wash, so they can’t be fun plans,” Niner says.

Carolina hesitates.

There are a couple reasons why she isn’t in Boston right now.

First, she thought it’d be good for Church and their dad. There’s no denying they’re a family now. She felt that magic and saw the looks on their dad and Church’s faces as they made that promise. Their dad and Church still look at each other sometimes like they don’t know what to say. Maybe spending some time together without her will let them talk freely.

Second, it’s the perfect opportunity to go talk to someone she knows Church and their dad wouldn’t want her to. If they’re out of town, she doesn’t even have to come up with a lie. She really hates lying.

Of course, that doesn’t mean she can tell the truth to her friends, so she just gives a little shrug and says, “We’ll see. I’ll probably be free on Sunday. We could hang out?”

“Sounds like a plan,” Niner says. She rolls her eyes when Wash’s mouth twists in a familiar, apologetic grimace. A sarcastic edge creeps into her voice. “Let me guess. Your mom needs help at the shelter.”

“Just because it’s a Sunday doesn’t mean the dogs don’t need to get walked,” Wash says. He’s not defensive, exactly, but he crosses his arms and shrugs. “You guys could always help.”

Niner and Carolina exchange a look. They both like animals, but volunteering at the shelter is a lot of work. It’s probably why Wash looks a little tired.

Carolina tries to figure out how to phrase things so it doesn’t sound like she’s criticizing Wash’s mom. She thinks Wash’s mom is great, but between school, track, and the shelter it feels like Wash doesn’t have time to hang out anymore.

“Has your mom thought about asking for more volunteers?”

“Yeah,” Niner adds. “I’m sure someone around here needs some volunteer hours to pad their college applications with.”

Wash rolls his eyes right back at her. “Because what the shelter needs is someone who’s there for their college stuff, not because they actually like animals. It’s fine.”

Niner looks like she wants to argue with him for a second before she shakes her head. “Well, if you change your mind, Carolina and I are hanging out at my place. My dad’s gotten into Indian cooking lately and I’m totally volunteering us to be taste testers.”

“Oh, that sounds good,” Carolina says. Even Wash looks a little tempted.

Niner nudges Carolina with her elbow. “Yeah, there’s a bunch of veggie options for you. You’ll love it.”

Carolina smiles.

Then Niner tilts her head. There's a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Then again, Indian food is pretty spicy. Think you can handle it?”

Wash snorts. “She's lived in a bunch of places. You think she hasn't had tons of spicy food before?”

“Sure she has. But I saw her face when she tried wasabi. Pretty sure I can take her.”

There’s no way Carolina’s going to keep letting Niner trash-talk like that. Carolina closes her locker, the movement making both Wash and Niner look at her. She grins, widening her smile to the one she gives the competition before every track meet.

“If I win whatever spicy food challenge your dad comes up with, you have to be vegetarian for a week.”

Niner grins back. “And if you lose?”

“I won’t.”

“How do you guys make eating a competition?” Wash asks, shaking his head. He’s grinning as he says it though.

Niner claps him on the shoulder, snickering as he winces. “Because we’re awesome.”

Wash laughs. “Uh huh. I was gonna go with weird, but sure.”

The warning bell rings above them.

“On that note, see you later,” Wash says, tapping Niner’s elbow with his history textbook. “Try not to eat so much spicy food that your heads explode.”

“You watch too many cartoons,” Niner informs him before she dives into the crowd.

“Have a good weekend,” Carolina says.

Wash shoots her a brief smile. “You too.” Then he darts off as well.

Carolina waits until they’re both out of sight. Then she sighs. She’ll admit to herself that she’s a little nervous about tonight. It’s bound to be awkward. Still, her curiosity outweighs the awkwardness.

“It’s definitely going to be an interesting weekend….”

* * *

“So,” Church says, flopping across his bed. “Want to watch TV?”

“There’s probably a way to switch to the witch news channel,” Leonard says. He raises an eyebrow when Church groans. It’s only at the slight twitch of his lips that Church realizes he’s being played.

“You’re hilarious.” Church stays sprawled where he is. There’s a water stain on the ceiling. He knew that the school wasn’t going to put them up anywhere fancy, but that’s a little much. It’s not even an interesting stain that looks like something. The wall art is boring too, pictures of the Boston shore like they’re not already in Boston.

At least the bed’s comfortable. And at least there’s two of them. Saves them both the awkwardness of magicking up a second bed.

He turns his head so that he can see the fridge from the corner of his eye. He thought he'd wind Leonard up over college, but now he thinks he should save that for later. He doesn't want to use his trump card too quickly. There's got to be other ways to mess with Leonard.

Leonard clears his throat. The question, when it comes, is not what Church expected.

“Do you remember how to play kugelach?”

Church looks up at him, but he’s at a weird angle. He has to sit up to get a good look at Leonard’s expression. It doesn’t help. He’s pretty sure it was a sincere question. Still, he can’t help but echo, “Kugelach?”

Almost all of Leonard’s memories are gone. Most were already fading or unraveling or whatever when he started to fall apart. Whatever the spell did to make him permanent got rid of almost everything else. He’s got a few memories left, more like half-forgotten dreams, and some muscle memory, but that’s about it. Honestly, it's kind of a relief.

Kugelach does sound familiar.

Church says slowly, “It’s a game, right? With dice or, uh, something?”

“Stones,” Leonard corrects. He pauses. “I could teach you. I taught Carolina.”

That doesn’t stir any memories, but Church squints. “Wait, is it a kid’s game?”

Leonard frowns slightly. “It is a game that has existed for approximately four thousand years.”

“Uh huh,” Church says. He tries to figure out Leonard’s angle here, and gives up. Leonard looks like he’s expecting an answer. Kugelach sounds better than witch news at least. He shrugs and smirks. “I mean, if we’re placing some bets once I learn the rules, sure. I need the cash for the vending machine.”

Leonard’s eyebrow goes up. “Where has all the money from your two allowances gone?” he asks dryly. “Mortals seem to survive on a single allowance. And if we’re placing bets, you will have to offer something in exchange, since you apparently don’t have cash on hand.”

“Uh, A, video games are expensive, and B, a guy’s gotta eat,” Church says. He doesn’t add that most of his money is in that saving account Carolina helped him set up. Then he registers Leonard’s dry tone.

Leonard’s _messing_ with him over his allowance, like he messed with him over the witch news channel. Sure, it’s a weird, dry humor, but Leonard’s definitely teasing him.

Church goes back to squinting. “You’ll play for money?” He almost asks what the catch is, but stops himself just in time.

This time he spots the amused glint in Leonard’s eyes when Leonard says, “I believe we have established that you don’t have money. I suppose you will be playing for money and I will be playing for, hm--”

“Something out of the vending machine?”

Leonard looks dubious at that. It’s almost identical to the look Carolina wears whenever she has to endure the Slicery.

Church laughs. “Come on, Leonard. I will get someone into junk food, and Carolina and--” He almost mentions Tex, and hastily backtracks. Leonard might've accepted him as part of the family, but they still haven't talked about her. “And Carolina is a health freak, so that’s out. I believe in you. You can develop a sweet tooth if you try.”

Leonard just continues to look dubious.

Church rubs at the back of his neck. “So are we playing or not?”

Leonard answers by reaching into the pocket of his suit, because of course he wore a suit for a two and a half hour bus ride, and which of course magically didn’t get wrinkled the entire time. There’s a flash of blue.

When Leonard withdraws his hand, a silk bag dangles from his fingers.

“Now,” Leonard says, spilling a bunch of golden cubes into his palm, “it is a rather simple game, which relies on skill, coordination, and dexterity.”

Church makes a mental note not to play this with Carolina. She’d probably kick his butt. And she gets _intense_ about games and bets, like with New Year’s Eve, standing outside and freezing just to stay up until midnight.

“Kugelach is an ancient game. It’s also called Hamesh Avanim. It has been played for over four thousand years, and while many cultures have something similar, such as knucklebones or jacks--”

Church groans. “Leonard, I didn’t sign up for a lecture. Just get to the rules.”

He’s surprised when Leonard’s lips go thin for a moment.

Leonard says stiffly, “Very well.”

Church feels a pang of guilt. It’s not like he thinks he hurt Leonard’s feelings, but obviously Leonard was excited to explain the history of the game. He still doesn’t get why Leonard wants to teach him, but he probably shouldn’t be a jerk. He gives an elaborate shrug. “Or at least let me have some pre-lecture candy first. I need a sugar rush if I have to deal with history.”

He summons some knockoff candy and busies himself with unwrapping it.

Leonard’s silent for a moment. Then he clears his throat and launches back into his whole spiel about the history of kugelach. Eventually he gets around to the rules, which boils down to tossing, dropping, and catching the stones through a couple elaborate steps and the first one to do all of them without screwing up wins.

Finally Leonard holds the stones in his hand. “To determine who is first, you take all five stones in one hand, toss them up in the air, and try to catch them on the back of that hand. Then you throw them from the back of that hand and catch them in the palm of the same hand. Whoever catches the most stones starts the game. Does that make sense?”

Church rolls his eyes, grinning a little. It’s not a memory, exactly, but he can imagine a younger Carolina’s intense face as she learned the game. “It’s a kid’s game, Leonard, not rocket science. Pretty sure I get it.”

One eyebrow goes up and Leonard holds out the stones. “Why don’t I fix this floor and then we can begin.”

“Right,” Church says, taking them. They’re heavier than he expected.

Leonard waves a hand and temporarily shifts the hotel room’s carpet to a polished wood floor.

“Don’t forget to change that back after I’ve kicked your butt,” Church says, and ignores Leonard’s faintly amused look. He gets off the bed and sits down on the floor instead, cross-legged.

Church holds the stones in his palm, trying to get used to their weight. No sudden muscle memory comes to flick his wrist at the exact right angle, but he wasn’t really expecting it. Even if Leonard offered to teach him, he probably hasn’t played it since he and Tex were teaching Carolina, and before that, who knows. It could’ve been centuries.

He’s aware of Leonard watching him, still with the faint amusement.

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, though Leonard hasn’t said anything, and tosses the stones.

They’re probably _supposed_ to go in a nice high arc before dropping to the waiting back of his hand. Instead they fly out in all directions.

One of them almost gets him in the eye. “Crap!”

“Are you all right?”

When Church looks away from glaring at the scattered cubes, there’s concern on Leonard’s face. It lasts as long as it takes for Church to scowl at him. Then he just looks amused, like a big jerk.

“I’m fine. Just testing out the weight,” Church mumbles, but even he can hear the sulkiness in his voice. He hunts around for the cubes. One managed to land on his bed and another one somehow landed under the bed.

His next attempt goes better. This time they actually go up and not in random directions. Church even gets his hand under them, but the three that hit the back of his palm immediately roll off.

He can feel his face getting hot, the way it does whenever he’s failing at some new video game Tucker insists is way better than the last one they played. He gathers them up and throws again.

Third time’s the charm. He manages to catch two. “Ha! Take that, Leonard!”

Church’s crow of triumph gets him one of Leonard’s eyebrow raises.

“I don’t know where you got your competitive nature from,” Leonard remarks dryly.

Church snorts. “Oh please. You’re as competitive as Carolina. Just about boring nerd stuff and not about sports. Now come on. I want some good candy, not a magic knockoff brand.”

He tosses the two stones he caught at Leonard and grins when Leonard almost drops them.

He stops grinning when Leonard gives a practiced flip of his wrist, starts to grin again as Leonard still fumbles the catch, and then groans as Leonard manages to just barely keep three stones on the back of his hand.

One’s perched in the curve of his thumb, wobbling dangerously. For a second Church thinks it’s going to fall, but it stays there.

“Three to two,” Leonard says, looking slightly smug about it. “Now, I don’t believe we decided what I will receive when I win?”

Church scoffs. “ _When_? Getting ahead of yourself there, Leonard.”

Leonard just keeps looking smug.

“Just throw the stones.”

* * *

Carolina remembers the flickering fluorescent light from the last time she was in the store. It can’t possibly be the same one, though. That was weeks ago. It must be a new light needing a replacement.

At least this one isn’t buzzing faintly. She grabs a pack of Gatorade and then scans the checkout lines. It’s a busy Friday afternoon. Most of the lines have at least a few customers, with a teenager like her hurriedly checking them out.

Then she hears the familiar measured voice.

““Thank you for choosing us today,” Locus says. “We hope to see you back again.”

Carolina turns. She doesn’t know how she missed him-- he’s much taller than the rest of the cashiers.

She takes a few steps towards his line when another voice rises over the rest.

“Sammy, Sammy, Sammy, we’ve _talked_ about this. You need to smile! You wouldn’t want our customers to come away thinking we didn’t love and value them, would you?”

It’s the obnoxious assistant manager from the last time. Carolina knows that Locus doesn’t have magic anymore and that means he can’t turn the assistant manager into a frog, but she still instinctively braces herself when the guy reaches up and pats Locus’ arm.

“How about you try that again? With a grin?”

Locus’ jaw works. He really doesn't have a poker face. He hates this guy a lot.

“Come on, Sammy,” the assistant manager chirps, either oblivious to Locus' irritation or amused by it. Cheerful condescension drips off his words.

Carolina remembers messing with his name tag. She almost gets distracted wondering if she can get away with it a second time, but then Locus turns and looks down at the assistant manager and says in a flat voice, “No.”

The assistant manager stares. From his baffled expression, Carolina suspects he wasn’t prepared for that. “No?”

“No,” Locus says, even more firmly, as the woman he was checking out grabs her bags and awkwardly sidles between them, ducking a little so that Locus and the assistant manager can keep staring at each other. He plucks his nametag off his shirt in a smooth motion and holds it up at the guy’s eye level. “My name tag says Samuel. Not Sammy. I’ve told you that as many times as you’ve told me to smile. I’m not explaining again. I quit.”

“You, uh-- At least finish your shift!”

There’s no condescension in the guy’s voice anymore, the words falling weakly from his lips as Locus just gives him an incredulous look.

Locus doesn’t bother to answer. Then again, Carolina feels like him reaching over slowly and turning off the light for his checkout station is just another way of saying no.

“Uh--” The assistant manager gives the people in line a flustered smile. “One moment, everyone! I’m sorry, um, about the delay--”

Locus walks away. His expression is a mixture of alarm and relief and satisfaction. Carolina figures she had a similar expression when Church quit her awful job on her behalf, with bonus exasperation at her brother.

Then his gaze lands on Carolina. He blinks.

She smiles weakly. Is it more or less awkward to strike up a conversation after he’s just quit his job? “...Hi?”

“Hello,” Locus says slowly. He doesn’t look mad or annoyed. He mostly just looks confused.

“Um, is now a good time? To talk?”

He stares at her.

She can feel heat creep into her face. She knew this was going to be a weird conversation, but maybe she should have practiced what she was going to say. She shifts the Gatorade pack in her arms and fixes a smile on her face.

Locus keeps staring. Then he says, “I need to clock out.”

“Great! And I, uh, need to put this back.” Carolina waves the Gatorade at him.

When he gets outside, he looks questioningly at her.

She still hasn’t figured out how to ask everything she wants to ask. “Let’s walk,” she suggests. She’s always thought better moving. Besides, it’s a bitterly cold February afternoon, the wind stinging exposed skin. They’ll stay warmer.

“All right,” Locus says. He falls into step beside her. His forehead is creased with lingering confusion.

“So, uh,” Carolina says. “I quit my first job too. Well, Church quit it for me, but I didn’t mind.” She glances over her shoulder towards the store. “Do managers take classes to learn how to be jerks?”

Locus doesn’t smile, but there’s still a trace of resigned amusement in his voice as he says, “That wasn’t my first mortal job, but bad managers do seem to be a pattern.”

Carolina has more important questions to ask, but she gets distracted for a second. “How many jobs have you--”

“Too many,” Locus says. He sighs.

“Well, maybe your next one will be better,” Carolina offers. Then she squares her shoulders and takes a breath. The sidewalk isn’t crowded. It’s easy to pitch her voice low and ask, “Do you regret giving up magic?”

“No,” he says, after a beat of silence.

Carolina waits, but he doesn’t elaborate. She thinks of Church, grimacing and complaining about his five minutes of mortality being awful. “Even though it means you’re--” She almost says normal and has to correct herself. “--mortal?”

“Perhaps if I hadn’t chosen this, I would regret it,” Locus says. “And I will admit mortality has its complications, besides the obvious.” A wry smile flickers across his face, so fast that Carolina almost misses it. “I would prefer a steady job with better management. When you can no longer spell yourself food, the bills accumulate quickly.”

“Yeah, I bet,” Carolina says.

Locus glances sideways at her. She squirms a little under his searching gaze. “I needed to lose my magic. I… Well. You saw what choices I made when I had it.”

“You made the right choice in the end,” she reminds him, and is surprised when he raises a hand as though he’s brushing that aside.

“One right decision doesn’t undo all the wrong ones. It was better for everyone, including myself, to give it up.”

Carolina bites her lip. “And I guess if most witches had a choice between centuries on Pluto and mortality, they’d probably choose mortality.”

Locus frowns. “That wasn’t a factor.”

Carolina blinks. “It wasn’t?”

Locus shakes his head. “I gave Felix my magic and let them both go.” His hand rises and touches his chest, an absent gesture.

Carolina had been exhausted by the end of the fight, barely clinging to consciousness, but the gesture triggers a moment. What had Locus said at the end of the fight? Something about if Felix wanted to use him for his magic, he could have it? Locus had thrown magic at Felix, and Felix had fallen--

“Oh,” she says. “I, uh. Didn’t realize you gave up your magic then.”

“Witches always have the choice to give up their magic. It isn’t a decision to be made lightly and hastily,” Locus says slowly. He’s still looking carefully at her, and now she realizes there’s a little bit of worry in his features. “I gave up mine after having it for three hundred years, time enough to realize it wasn’t good for me. I wouldn’t… I wouldn’t recommend….”

It’s only when he starts fumbling for words that she realizes why he’s worried. “Oh, I’m not thinking of giving up my magic!” she assures him. She’s been so focused on his expression that she hasn’t noticed the tension in his shoulders until they relax. “I just-- I didn’t know it was a thing you could do and I… I mean….”

It’s her turn to fumble for the right words. If she had known last year that she could give up her magic and see her parents again, she would’ve done it in a heartbeat. Even now she doesn’t love magic the way Church and their dad do. She doesn’t think she’d regret giving it up, except that it would hurt them.

But magic has given her some good things. Well, it’s given her Church, and that makes up for a lot.

She finally just shrugs. She jams her hands into her pockets, the way Church always does with his hoodie, and glances away for a second, still trying to gather her thoughts. Her eyes land on a help wanted sign, and a surprised laugh escapes her lips.

She nods towards the sign, which is perched in a bakery window and surrounded by tiers of multi-colored dessert. Just looking at it makes her teeth hurt from anticipation of all that sugar.

“There’s my brother’s dream job. Except he’d get fired for eating too much.”

Locus follows her gaze. He makes a noncommittal noise.

They keep walking, this time in silence for a minute. Carolina finally breaks it by asking, “So the grocery store wasn’t your first job? What were the others?”

Locus sighs. “Pizza delivery. Construction. I sold newspaper advertising for a week.” He offers the list in a flat voice.

And she thought she’d had bad luck with her summer job. “Well, I hope you find something better.”

Again there’s a look of surprise. “Thank you.”

They walk in silence for another few steps and then Locus says quietly, “Wait a few decades.”

Carolina blinks at him. “What?”

“Before you give up your magic.”

“I’m not…” Carolina trails off when he stops walking.

“Wait a few decades,” he repeats. “The Council--” His mouth twists. “The Council tries to poison half-mortal witches’ love for magic with their rules. They would be happy to watch you give up your magic and even happier if you regretted it later.”

He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “I made my decision after three hundred years. Several lifetimes. No need to rush.”

“Okay,” Carolina says. Even if she gets the feeling he’s still worried, she’s not going to give up her magic any time soon. She’s just got seven months left before she can see her mom again. She smiles crookedly and adds, “Thanks. Wouldn’t want to make the Council happy.”

Locus studies her for a moment. His shoulders relax again. He doesn’t quite smile, but there’s a hint of amusement in his voice as he agrees, “No. We wouldn’t.”

* * *

Church is _not_ a sore loser for the record. If anything, Leonard is a sore winner. He still hasn’t told Church what he wants for winning. It’s been driving Church crazy all morning as he ate a mediocre breakfast and got roped into helping with set up.

Simmons is still avoiding Leonard, which means he's hovering practically at Church's shoulder, clearly wanting to help with set up but also wanting to let them do it themselves. He stares around the gymnasium, which is way bigger than Westbridge’s, vibrating with excitement like the big nerd he is.

“This is so great,” he says. “And just think, if we hadn’t gotten that anonymous donation, we wouldn’t be here! Maybe next year we can even do a fundraiser, get enough money to participate in the FIRST Robotics Competition.”

“Uh huh,” Church says. He’s not going to admit it to Simmons, but the club has gotten more interesting lately. It’s still more Caboose and Sheila’s thing than his, but that donation means Simmons doesn’t have to pay for the supplies himself, which means way cooler projects.

He yelps in surprise as Caboose bellows, “Church, you’re frowning! Are you nervous?”

“Dang it, Caboose,” he mutters. He rubs at his ear and turns to stare at Caboose, who’s looking concerned. He sighs. “No, I’m not nervous.”

Caboose nods. “Of course you’re not! Even if this is a big competition and we want to make Simmons proud. And we are competing against a lot of really smart people.”

“Well, now I’m a little nervous,” Church says. He’s being sarcastic, but Caboose’s eyes widen.

“I could distract you by telling you about what Connie, Sheila, and I found when we snuck out of our rooms last night!” He drops his voice to a loud whisper. “Connie said it was a very big deal.”

“When you did _what_?” Simmons asks.

Caboose’s expression freezes. Church swallows down a snicker as Caboose gives Simmons a guilty smile. “Um. We did not sneak out of our rooms last night. Because that would be bad.”

Simmons sighs. “Every field trip....” Then he looks around. He frowns. “Wait, where's Connie?”

Leonard clears his throat. He’s seated in the bleachers, sticking out like a sore thumb among a bunch of families who drove up together for the competition. They’re all wearing school colors or something casual, so of course Leonard’s wearing a suit. Church is pretty sure Sheila’s sister started to ask him earlier if he was a judge before she looked at him and Church and made the connection.

“By the judges’ table, I believe,” he says, nodding over their shoulders.

Leonard might be sticking out, but so is Connie. She’s got big sunglasses on in the already dim gym lighting, a notepad in one hand and a pen in the other, standing by the judges and scribbling stuff down.

Simmons sighs, even more deeply. “Right. I’m going to go...see what that’s all about.”

As Simmons marches off, Church abandons the set-up to sidle over to Leonard.

“So. Decided on what you want yet?”

“I am still considering my options,” Leonard says.

Church groans. It’s bad enough that he lost, but now Leonard’s milking it for all he’s worth. Even Carolina is a less annoying winner than this. He can’t quite keep the fully justified whine from his voice. “Come on, Leonard. Stop messing with me. What’s it gonna be? Let me guess, you want me to seriously consider my options for college, promise to at least visit some stupid school in--” Sheila glances over curiously, and he hastily changes what he was about to say. “--in another state, or improve my grades, which are _fine_ , or--”

“While I would like you to do both,” Leonard interrupts, his tone very dry, “if you had won, I would have owed you some candy bars. It seems a rather unequal exchange. Instead I was thinking smaller, something--” He actually hesitates. “Could we stay in Boston tomorrow?”

The request catches Church off-guard. “What? Why?”

“Phyllis volunteered to ride back with Richard instead, and I would prefer to avoid another two and a half hours on that...contraption.”

Church squints. Then he remembers Caboose leading the entire bus in Ninety-Nine Bottles. He begins to grin. “Way to sound a million years old. But sure, I’ll rescue you from another bus ride.”

“I wouldn’t say _rescue_ \--”

“Got it. Hey, I bet I can even come up with something for us to do.”

That earns him a slightly wary expression.

Church gives him his most innocent look. “There’s a free concert tomorrow. I would’ve gone with Tucker, but he has some family thing and besides we were busy with this competition. We could go instead.”

Leonard’s still looking like he senses a trap, but after a moment he nods. “Very well.”

“Awesome,” Church says.

He can’t wait to see Leonard’s reaction to grunge metal.

* * *

The speakers blast out the music and guitars as Dave Grohl lunges at his microphone and demands, “What have we done with innocence? It disappeared with time, it never made much sense. Adolescent resident, wasting another night on planning my revenge.”

The music rumbles through Church. He can feel it through his feet, buzzing around in his chest. He joins in with the chorus. “I’ll never be your monkey wrench,” he yells with the rest of the crowd, so loudly that his throat hurts.

He grins. Tucker is going to be so jealous.

His grin turns to a smirk when he turns and sees the expression on Leonard’s face.

Leonard looks completely weirded out.

He’s staring -- at the stage, at the crowd, and finally at Church. He opens his mouth, then pauses, and closes it again, but the question is still written all over his face. _Is this a joke?_

Leonard definitely looks like a joke. Or maybe just a narc, a guy in a suit in a crowd of teenagers and twenty year olds, all wearing ripped clothes and T-shirts and most with dyed hair.

Leonard’s expression tugs at a memory, and then Church remembers Halloween when Huggins surprised Leonard with black and orange confetti.

Just like then, laughter bubbles up from Church’s chest. He snickers. “Not a fan of the Foo Fighters, Leonard?” He has to repeat himself, louder, when Leonard just blinks at him owlishly.

“I, ah. They’re very...loud.”

“Yeah,” Church agrees cheerfully. He nudges Leonard in the side, the way he would Carolina. That move earns him an even more confused look. Yeah, maybe they’re not there yet. “Let me guess, your last concert was like Liszt or something.”

The confusion lingers in Leonard’s face, but the corner of his mouth twitches. “No. But it was opera, not--” He gestures towards the stage, and then winces as one of the guitarists hits a bunch of chords and the speakers shriek.

Church grins and then figures he’s messed with Leonard for long enough. He waits until everyone else is too busy screaming during the chorus, and then points his finger at Leonard.

There are sparks of blue light.

“Thank you,” Leonard says slowly, his fingers brushing against the earplugs.

Church shrugs. Then he joins in singing, yelling the second chorus with them.

After the concert, they’re walking down a Boston sidewalk. Apparently Leonard has some way to get them back to Westbridge, though he hasn’t said how. They’re turning a corner as Leonard says quietly, “Mortals move so...quickly.” He says it under his breath, like he’s talking to himself.

Maybe he is just talking to himself. Church isn’t sure if he should answer. Still, he shrugs, his hands jammed into his pockets because somehow Boston is even colder than Westbridge and it was already obnoxiously cold.

He yanks his hood up, keeping the wind from turning his sweaty hair to icicles and says, "...Yeah. I mean, my time sense is shot to hell ‘cause of my whole..situation, even if--” He almost makes a joke about being a real boy now, but even a few months after Thanksgiving it still doesn’t feel funny. And Leonard wouldn’t appreciate the joke either. Maybe they’ll laugh about it in a decade. He chews his lip. “But. It still feels fast. Sometimes.”

Leonard glances at him, startled. Crap, maybe he hadn’t realized he’d spoken out loud and Church just made it awkward. Then he nods slowly. “Fast Yes.” He pauses. His hand comes up to fiddle with his glasses.

He’s not looking at Church when he adds, “It’s why I have pressured Carolina to make, ah, witch friends. I know she doesn’t-- I suspect she hasn’t grasped quite how long witches live. I want to make sure that she...that she won’t be alone in a century.”

“She’ll have us,” Church says. He knows what Leonard means, though. He tries not to think about Tucker and Caboose growing old, even if Doyle’s stupid mortality test had made that hard for a few weeks.

Leonard just nods.

The silence gets a little grim. Church really doesn’t want to think about his friends dying. Be a pretty crappy way to end an otherwise good weekend. He hunts around for a safer conversation.

“Well, Connie decided to go all Nancy Drew.”

Leonard gives him a blank look.

Right. Why would Leonard know that reference? Church only did because one of Caboose’s sisters is obsessed with the books. “Teen girl detective.”

“Ah,” Leonard says. “It seems she styles herself after Nellie Bly. What was she investigating?”

Church almost asks who that is, and then decides it doesn’t matter. “Apparently one of the judges was taking bribes. We were sharing the same hotel as one of the other teams, and I guess when we were checking in, Connie heard one of the dads say something weird. She convinced Sheila and Caboose to help her spy on the other team, and well--” He shrugs.

“I suppose neither witch nor mortal is immune to bribery,” Leonard says.

“Yeah, Connie’s gonna be smug forever. Apparently she’s getting mentioned in the local paper as the ‘plucky teen reporter who broke the story’ or something. And she gets to brag about it for the Lantern too.”

“Well, she should be proud. She uncovered corruption.”

Church snorts. “Yeah, I’d care more if it meant _we_ won.”

Leonard looks faintly amused. “Third place is acceptable, considering this is your school’s first year competing. Your friend’s investigative skills are as excellent as Symon’s.”

“Symon?”

“A childhood friend,” Leonard says. “He also had an inquisitive mind. He grew suspicious of the fact that a neighbor’s sheep seemed to produce more wool than anyone else’s, and decided to solve the mystery.”

“Did he solve it?”

“Yes,” Leonard says, and surprises Church by chuckling. “Old Hugo was engaging in a little late-night sheering, taking wool from his neighbors’ sheep.”

Church takes that sentence in slowly. Then he laughs too. He can just picture it, this Symon kid sneaking around at night and stumbling onto that weird scene: the old dude, the sheers, and the probably very annoyed sheep. “Wow. Bet that made things awkward with Old Hugo’s neighbors.”

Leonard nods, still amused.

“So, what, did Symon grow up to start his own Scooby Doo crew?” Anticipating the blank look this time, Church adds, ”Become a fancy 10th century detective.”

Leonard’s amusement fades. They’ve taken another turn and found themselves at the harbor. He’s quiet for a moment, staring out at the dark water. “No. He died when we were seventeen. A fever.”

Church grimaces. “That sucks.” He wants to call the words back as soon as he mumbled them, because talk about useless things to say.

There’s another bit of silence. “So they really are lost. Your copies of my memories.”

Church blinks. It’s not the response he was expecting. He shrugs, bracing himself against the cold air. Why is it worse here by the water? “Uh, yeah. Why, because I didn't remember that?”

“That, and….” Leonard takes off his glasses. He turns them over in his hands, the gesture slightly clumsy from his gloves. He’s still fidgeting with his glasses when he clears his throat and says, “It was a difficult time for the whole village.” His voice is distant.

He doesn’t elaborate, but something clicks in Church’s head. “It wasn't just Symon, was it,” he says.

Leonard sighs. He puts his glasses back on. “No. No it wasn't.”

Church frowns and says, “You know. Early on. When I did have a bunch of your memories knocking around, Carolina sneezed and I was-- I had this weird reaction. She wasn't even sick, just got some dust in her nose or something. But there was still this feeling of-- it stuck with me. Couldn't figure out why.”

“Yes. I've never reacted well to illness.”

“Makes sense, I wouldn’t either--” Church starts, and then pauses. “Huh. When you got sick with hairfluenza, I-- I didn’t remember why, but I _knew_ you’d hole up in your bedroom and avoid people. I even told Carolina not to take it personally.”

“She did mention you said that I would tell her to go away,” Leonard says. His mouth twists a little, slightly rueful. “At the time I...wondered how much you remembered.”

Church shrugs. “Not much. Just that you wouldn’t want to be near anybody.”

“I see,” Leonard says.

The cold’s biting at his skin. If there weren’t mortals around, he’d magic up another scarf or something. Instead he just grits his teeth and stares out at the water for a minute, thinking.

He doesn’t remember Symon and the village, but he’s got the picture. And he gets why Leonard’s worried. Sometimes Church would swear Carolina thinks of herself as a mortal with magic instead of a witch. He doesn’t get it, but then again, he didn’t spend sixteen years thinking he was mortal. She did.

“I didn’t want mortal friends, you know,” he says. “I didn’t even want to go to school. I still figured Grey would get bored and I’d--” He stops, grimaces. “Need to run eventually. Why waste time learning mortal history? But Grey and Kimball insisted, and that first day, Caboose decided I was his friend. You try telling him no.”

“He does have a rather...forceful personality.”

Church looks at him, surprised at the faint amusement in his voice.

All is explained when Leonard adds, “And embraces, apparently.”

“Ugh.” Church rolls his eyes. His face is already red from the cold, but now it warms from annoyance. Carolina’s never going to let him live it down, and he guesses Leonard won’t either. “You know we don’t choose our hug bugs, Leonard. I don’t make fun of yours.”

It’s only when Leonard stops walking that Church replays the last sentence back. Crap, this is the closest they’ve gotten to talking about Tex. He licks his lips nervously and regrets it-- the cold makes them sting. “Uh, I mean….”

He can’t get a read on Leonard’s expression.

After a few seconds of awkward silence that feels like minutes, Leonard says, “Learning that we have different hug bugs was one of the final facts that assured me you were your own person.”

Church blinks at him. “Huh. ...Really?”

Leonard raises an eyebrow. “Of course. Why would my duplicate have a different hug bug?”

Church shrugs. “Honestly, I didn’t even remember the hug bug thing until Zelda ratted you out. It’s not like Tex hugged me when--” He’s really running his mouth tonight, isn’t he. He grimaces when Leonard stares. “I, uh. Maybe visited her back in October.”

“But you--” Leonard stops. He closes his eyes. Church busies himself with staring at the harbor again, giving him space, until Leonard murmurs, half to himself, “No, why would the Council forbid you from visiting her? In fact, Malcolm would be delighted.”

Church nods. “Yeah, I mean, obviously I couldn’t, uh, pass along messages but…. Yeah. We talked.” He snorts. “Well, mostly she taught me how to throw a punch and made me help haul sandbags around, but. Yeah. She, uh--” He looks back out at the water. “She’s doing okay. Keeping busy with work. Ready for October.”

Leonard sighs.

Time to lighten the mood. “She knows you got dumb with your magic, though. I mean--” He gestures at himself. “Turned out great, but yeah, some Hargrove guy showed up to tell her about your affair with Huggins.”

“Of course he did,” Leonard says, sour-voiced.

“She punched him in the face.”

The sour look vanishes as Leonard stares at him. Then a slow smile spreads across his face. It’s amused and wistful and delighted all at once. “She...punched him,” he repeats, as though he’s sure he misheard but is hoping he hasn’t.

“Oh yeah.” Church swings his fist the way she taught him, aiming at nothing. “He got out one ‘child out of wedlock’ and pow!”

Leonard laughs. Not a chuckle or a quietly amused sound, but a loud enough laugh that heads turn on the dock to see what’s so funny. “I cannot wait to hear that story in full detail,” he says, and his voice is that jumbled mix of longing and delight.

“Just seven more months,” Church reminds him. A particularly cold gust of wind smacks him in the face, hard enough that his eyes water even behind his glasses. He rubs at his arms and adds, “Unless we become the first witches to die of hypothermia. How are we getting home? My nose is gonna fall off.”

“Highly unlikely,” Leonard says.

“ _Leonard_ ,” Church whines. “Don’t ruin a good weekend by letting me freeze to death!”

Leonard is still chuckling as they turn away from the harbor and into a narrow alleyway. He gestures, a smooth, practiced movement that almost has Church calling him a show off, and then a door appears in the wall.

“After you,” Leonard says.

“Thanks,” Church says. He waits until he’s got the door open into an unfamiliar closet, and adds, “Next time I’m beating you at kugelach though.”

“We’ll see.”

* * *

The bell above the door chimes loudly as Locus steps inside.

He instinctively surveys the bakery. There are two customers seated at a small table, so absorbed in eating their brightly colored macarons that they don’t even glance towards him.

Another customer is tucking his wallet away and picking up a rainbow dessert box off the counter. “Thanks, Walt. Same time next week?”

“If you want to stay in Dana’s good graces,” the man behind the counter says with a grin.

Locus focuses on him. The man’s stocky, his yellow hair cut short, showing off an apple pie earring in one ear. When he comes around the counter to smile brightly at Locus, Locus sees that he’s wearing an apron that says _All You Knead is Love_. He hopes that pun aprons are not a requirement for the job.

“Hello! Welcome to Sweet Disaster. Looking for anything in particular?”

The bakery smells slightly sweet without being cloying, with a few underlying spice scents like cinnamon. Locus takes a slow breath before he says, “A job, if it is still available.”

Walt blinks. Then he grins. He glances Locus over, and Locus is acutely aware of his black slacks and white shirt, an outfit he’d chosen after Dexter had let him use Simmons’ laptop to ask what would be appropriate. “It is. Got a resume and time to sit down for a chat?”

Locus has thought about this. He pulls out his meager resume and offers it with a, “Yes. Though my resume relates mostly to my retail service experience. I assisted in my father’s bakery when I was a...teenager.” He almost says youth and remembers the word has fallen out of fashion in the last few decades.

He’s relieved when Walt doesn’t immediately dismiss him for his lack of qualifications. “Oh? What kind of bakery?” Walt asks instead, gesturing for him to sit down at a table. Then he calls over his shoulder, “Nick! Interviewing someone. Bring out a sample plate? And I’ll need you at the counter if anyone else comes in!”

There’s an affirmative sound from through a half-open door to the back.

“Bread, primarily, but for holidays and special occasions he made pastries.”

Locus can remember the ache in his wrists and arms whenever he helped with his favorite pastries, ones made of fine sugar. There was the peeling and grinding the almonds, then pulverizing the sugar and kneading the dough. All worth it when his father trusted him to watch the pastries boil to the color of gold without ruining them. For a moment he can almost smell the exact blend of honey, sugar, and cinnamon.

Another man comes from the back, a small tray of assorted dessert in his hand. He’s tall and lean, but with a matching earring to Walt, only it’s a pumpkin pie instead of an apple pie. He gives them both a grin and says, “Enjoy.”

“Thank you,” Locus says. He picks up a miniature cupcake.

“Hm,” Walt says.

When Locus looks up from studying the chocolate cupcake, Walt is studying his resume. There’s a slight crease in his forehead, a less than encouraging sign.

“Your resume is a little...sparse. Surely you have more than six months of work experience?”

“The rest is classified,” Locus says. Dexter had made him watch an espionage film a few weeks ago, and that response had prevented any further questions. He’s hoping that holds true to life and isn’t simply a mortal invention for the talkies.

Walt gives him another look. This time his examination of Locus is slower and more thorough, his gaze lingering on Locus’ shoulders and arms. “Classified,” he repeats.

“Yes,” Locus says, and takes a bite of the cupcake to give himself some time.

The unexpected mixture of flavors makes him blink. “That’s an unusual buttercream. Maple bacon?”

Somehow Walt looks even more surprised by this than he did over the classified explanation. He leans forward in his chair. “What?”

“The buttercream,” Locus says slowly. From the way Walt’s staring at him, he’s misstepped somehow. The taste lingers in his mouth, the cupcake rich and sticky. “It’s flavored with maple bacon, I believe. Works well with the cupcake itself. Oats, cocoa powder, brown sugar, and....coffee?” The last is very faint, but there.

Walt squints at him, squints at the resume, and then squints at him again. “...Do you know how old this bakery is?”

“Fifteen years,” Locus says, remembering the sign. _Sweet Disaster, Established 1984._

“We’ve had this cupcake on the menu the entire time, and no one’s figured out all the major ingredients from one bite.” Walt’s still leaning forward. “If you can bake as well as you can figure out ingredients--”

“And you’re not a spy from the bakery two blocks over,” Nick says, leaning against the counter and watching with a grin. His apron is elaborately decorated with stitched flowers, all curling around the words _Flour Power._

“--then you’re hired.”

Locus looks between them, but they seem sincere. For the first time since he started looking at potential occupations with Dexter, he feels confident that his work won’t be wholly terrible.

“I gave up on espionage six months ago.”

Walt laughs like he made a joke. “Good. Now enjoy the sample tray. Then I’ll grab you an apron and we’ll see what you can bake.”

The apron, when Walt offers it to him, says _Doughnut worry, we've got this!_

He must make a face, because Nick snickers. “The pun aprons are encouraged but not mandatory,” he assures Locus. “Walt just has an awful sense of humor.”

Locus ties the apron securely around his waist. When he steps into the kitchen, the smell of confectioners sugar and spices wash over him. He takes a deep breath. It doesn’t smell like his father’s bakery, but it’s still comforting compared to the sterile smell of the grocery store and the oily smells of the pizzeria.

He almost misses Walt’s next question.

“So, do you go by Samuel, Sam, or Sammy?”

Locus grimaces faintly at the last. Then he considers it. “Sam,” he decides.

Walt grins. “Well, Sam, our kitchen is at your disposal. Bake away!”

Locus thinks another moment. “Do you have rose water?”

Nick looks intrigued. “It’s not something we use too often, but we have some leftover from a Valentine’s Day special.”

Excellent. That was the rarest ingredient for his father’s pastries.

Locus rolls up his sleeves and sets to work.

**Author's Note:**

> **Fun trivia fact:**
> 
> While filming this episode, the cast and crew got into playing kugelach! It even got to the point where the director threatened to ban it because everyone was getting super intense about it. There may have been bets. Church’s actor was reportedly the worst at it, much like his character, but by all accounts the best kugelach player turned out to be Caboose’s, who had played jacks as a kid and took to kugelach like a fish to water.


End file.
